“What’s the matter with you?” asked Nestor. “Gone crazy or are you gittin’ your second childhood?”
“Git a hoss!” repeated the hunter, capering about like a schoolboy.
“What ails you?” demanded Nestor.
“Ain’t that what the kids cry when they see a busted auto?” asked the hunter. “Seems to me I’ve read that in the funny papers. Am I right?”
“You be,” said Nestor. “But what’s the use of rubbin’ our misfortune in?” he grumbled.
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what made you yell ‘Git a horse’?”
“’Cause that jest’s what you’re goin’ to do!”
“Say, did you sleep in the moonlight last night, ’cause you must have, an’ gone looney!” exclaimed Nestor. “You——” and then he stopped suddenly, as he caught the hunter’s idea. “Well, I’ll be ding-busted!” he finished, weakly.
“That’s jest what you’re goin’ to do,” went on the miner. “My Kate is as strong a hoss as you’d want. We’re goin’ downhill most of the way, anyhow, an’ it’ll be easy for Kate to pull the machine an’ us in it. There’s a town about fifty miles ahead, an’ maybe you can git some of them batter-cakes there.”